Падение Downfall
by hoshiko2kokoro
Summary: Russia was just a small thing that became something big. Growing up through pain, how did he see the rest of the world?
1. Pain

_Disclaimer_: I do not own anything from _Axis Powers Hetalia _or _World Series Hetalia_. It is owned by Himaruya Hidekaz. The lines at the end between Lithuania and Russia are from _Axis Powers Hetalia_ third volume.

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_Snow._

_Pain._

Those were the first things he knew. Such a small thing. His named had changed so much that he hardly remembers ever being called Vladimir. But he remembered when he was Moscow. How could he forget?

_He _was there.

The man with the cold stares, cold hands, and even colder words. Words like "submit", "torture", "invasion", and "change". All brought pain. And if Vladimir resisted, _he_ would bring out that device.

The yoke.

That same device that _he_ had used to kill his mother, Kiev Rus. How he missed her warm hands.

Vladimir would cry and beg for anything but that pain, restriction surrounding his neck. _He_ would only threaten Vladimir's sisters.

His innocent sisters.

Ukraine was the eldest and remembered Kiev Rus more than the others. She kept that sweetness and warmth in her with her smile and her gentle pats on Vladimir's head. She took him and his other sister out for picnics when the snow had melted. Her vast tracks of land made for beautiful afternoons.

But those days were gone. Now, Ukraine was nothing more than a distant memory of warm hands, a blanket, a scarf. And just like the memory of his mother Vladimir clung to his scarf; the remains of a fleeting warmth.

His other sister, Belarus, was much more like him than Ukraine. Ukraine was strong, able to stand and fight, whereas Vladimir and Belarus were tiny and scared, huddling close when Swedish, Danish, or Prussian invasions attacked them. They were together, rushing to hide and escape _his_ yoke.

However, there were some times when _he_ would catch all three. It was then that Ukraine would fall; crying as more and more of her gentleness was taken. Vladimir would rush to his sister's side, defying _his_ words. He would hold _him_ off while his sisters fled for their lives. Shaking from the snow and those eyes, he would watch his sister flee to safety.

Even if it meant more of that man holding him, grabbing his arms to hold him down, stuffing the yoke on his bloody neck, losing more land, he would do anything to protect them,

Protect anything that wasn't the Golden Horde.

Vladimir wasn't happy with his life, but ever since his parents were killed, it was all he came to know. He didn't know of any others like him. He could faintly recall an Asian man, but life revolved around _his_ demands and threats, so the Asian was quickly forgotten. He knew that there were mean ones like Denmark, Prussia, and Sweden, but he had never seen them. He refused to think they were like him or his sisters.

It was a rare day and Vladimir managed to escape from _his_ hold. He crept outside the village, watching some children play. He smiled to himself, wishing he could join, but he feared the fresh cuts on his neck, safely hidden under his scarf, would reopen. He didn't want the children to tease him again. They didn't know who he was and he didn't feel ready to tell anyone yet.

He had seen how others had abused his parents and knew that humans were unlike him and his sisters or even _him_. He envied humans, but didn't trust them. To Vladimir, they were fickle. He hated fickle. Fickle meant change. Change meant nothing stayed long enough for even a season to change.

But today as he watched, he noticed a boy with brown hair attending to a small dog. The boy looked different, felt different, was different. Vladimir cautiously approached the boy, the snow trailing behind him. He stopped when the puppy began to bark, jumping in front of his master to protect him. Vladimir was reminded of himself when _he_ came for his sisters.

"H-Hello," Vladimir mumbled. He gave a tiny smile. His voice was always hoarse from his marred neck.

The boy looked startled. His green eyes stared at Vladimir, uncertain as to who, or rather, _what_ Vladimir was. "Y-Your are…? What? You'll freeze if you stay there any longer."

"That little puppy is so cute," Vladimir ignored the boy's words. He couldn't freeze. He was ice itself.

The boy hastily tried to silence his barking dog. "Ah, I'm sorry. Usually it's really docile, but…" The boy then smiled as he realized this feeling; this shared connection to the Earth and the people on it. "Oh, could it be that you and I are the same?"

Vladimir was relieved and grateful the boy had brought up the subject first. He smiled and nodded. "Yup! We're the same!"

But they weren't the same. Vladimir felt a pooling sense of sadness. He buried his face into his scarf. It occurred to him that maybe this boy and him could be the same. They could be free, together. He smiled despite how sad he felt.

"Even though being under the Tartars' rule everyday is a bit difficult now, someday I'll become a big country."

The brunette was caught off guard. He gasped, his expression softening to that of pity. "I…I see…"

Vladimir then smiled, his face visible above his scarf. That boy who didn't even know him was sad for him, but also smiled for him. _Da_, maybe they could be free together.

"Then you'll become my friend!" Vladimir proclaimed.

The boy smiled again, this time much more warmly and friendly than before. "But…we could become friends by now…?"

Vladimir looked down at his hands. They were burned and scared from so much hard work the _he_ had put him through. He frowned at how weak he was; how caged he was. "No, we can't! I still don't have enough strength. I'll work hard from now on."

Vladimir nodded in determination. He turned back to home, waving to the boy and ignoring the ominous hands of winter drawing him back into the frozen world he lived in. "See you!"

He _would_ be free so he could see this boy again and be his friend. No matter the pain or sacrifices.

* * *

_Hoshiko2_'s cents: Hello and welcome to my newest short series. This will be about Russia (Ivan). To say the name of this series it's pronounced: Pa-dyen-e-ye and means Downfall.  
This is in the same time line as my other series _The Darkness Within Me_, but you don't need to read it to understand either story.  
The time that I set this chapter is between the Vladimir-Suzdal and the Mongolian Invasion (Golden Horde), so between 1157 and the 1500s.  
This one will be like _Tatemae_ and will be 5 chapters long, only it won't deal with Russia's interaction with America, but rather with other people and how he views them.

It'll update every Thursday! Hope you enjoy it!


	2. Push

_Running._

_Fear._

The teenager ran through his forests, trying to escape his pursuers. It seemed that was his fate in life was to constantly run from harsh hands, wanting to strangle him and stop him. Stop him from becoming something great.

No longer Vladimir, the boy had changed his name twice since then. For awhile, his country name was Moscow, but then it became Russia. His human name had changed to Ivan. He dearly loved his name for his old ruler, Ivan III, the gatherer of Russian lands and the first human to make _him_ leave.

For this, Ivan had changed his name gladly, refusing to accept that it had been smeared by the name of another Ivan ruler.

But now, it didn't matter what his name was. He was a man on the run; a country on the verge of complete collapse.

The early morning spring crisp chill bit at his cheeks as he gasped for air. Finally, a small cave emerged. Ivan dove underneath and quickly reloaded his gun, covering his breath when the men drew near on their horses. Ivan's hand steadied on his sword, his back-up in case he was forced to face his foes head-on.

However, it didn't come to that as the men quickly took off. Ivan breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the Polish and Lithuanian soldiers rush off into the wilderness. Exhausted, Ivan lay against the cold rock wall behind him. He didn't notice any of the cold, however.

His legs were badly frozen from the lack of people in his southlands, no thanks to more Tartar riots, his heart burning from the fires in Moscow caused by Germany and Poland, and his body riddled with scars from all the riots and invasions. The wind whistled in his ear, but he ignored it. The cries from his people were much more encompassing of his mind.

As the hours drew on and the sun set, Ivan found himself growing colder, his heart beating slower. He opened his eyes to look at his land. The beautiful trees, just starting fresh. However, Ivan knew that there was a small surge of winter coming back later this week.

It's a shame that at such a young age, they would be forced to lose their life, Ivan thought sadly. He looked at his hands, thinking of how burned they once were. He had healed, yes, but it took so much effort.

All of it wasted.

Ivan didn't want to die, didn't want to lose his life so early on. The Europeans constantly pushed at him and took things from him, lying to him and giving him all the wrong hope. How dare those heathens occupy his capitol and kill off those true to his blood?

It riled him up. Ivan clenched his gun and grit his teeth, imagining the pain those other nations had brought him and his children. He wouldn't stand for it anymore.

Slowly, Ivan stood up. His adrenaline and will to survive took form. He would face those intruders and show them real Russian power. Raw and ruthless. They thought they could add more to his already scar riddled body?

His scarf would forever hide all signs that he had ever been hurt by anyone else's hands. He would be strong. He would make his children fight back.

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_Hoshiko2_'s cents: This chapter is based on the Times of Trouble in Russian history (during when Poland gave Russia his fake tzars and Sweden invaded and all that lovely mess). It's right before the giant surge of Russian pride, however. There's also a tiny hint in here that relates to my main story, but it's nothing major.


	3. Plight

Before I begin, I want to apologize to everyone for my lack of updates. Midterms. They're over now so updates will continue for this series and the other as well.

Also, just a bit of a warning for this chapter. There are quite a few offensive words flung back and forth, but please be aware that this is set in the 1940s. Humanity didn't quite grasp the concept of politically correct and words that were just all around hurtful. Ergo, that means I don't believe anything America or Russia say from here below. But I totally couldn't resist using a line from the dub that America says (even though I hate it so).

With that in mind, please enjoy!

* * *

_Power._

_Dominance._

Ivan had come so far. All those that tried to stain his hands with blood, forcing guns into his hands and taking his hoe away to work in the city were no longer thinking he was some child anymore. _Nyet_, he was now a power to be reckoned with. He had been involved in two world wars and was even a member of an allied force.

He had friends.

Or so he had thought. But those Europeans had betrayed him again. It wasn't a surprise. America's words, however, were. A child in a man's body, he thought he had found a soul brother as he had in China. The boy had been alone so much of his life and had been pushed around by the men he had once called brothers, only to be seen as someone not worthy of the power he now held. Ivan could understand that.

So then how was it America was refusing his friendship, calling him harsh names, and forcing Ivan's boss to storm out of the conference rooms? Ivan was confused. His boss yelled about how it was unfair and he was being tossed aside, not considered to have any rights to taking what was his.

Curious, Ivan approached America and England, the two that seemed to run the peace talks. "Why won't you let me have more of Europe? I did my share of the fighting too you know."

England gazed at Ivan critically, but then again his green eyes always seemed so bitterly cold. "Because we believe your interests don't align with the rest of Europe's."

Ivan tilted his head, his smile still in place. He had learned long ago that despite what he felt inside, as long as he kept smiling, there was a chance no one would grow angry at him. Just keep the peace until everyone saw that his way was the only way to get along in this world. "I don't understand. What is so wrong with my country?"

Again, England stared at him. He crossed his arms, turning away slightly. "We don't want a repetition of the last war. We're trying to be fair to countries. I'm sure you understand that with your…current affairs back home."

"_Da_, but how is keeping what is rightfully mine fair?" Ivan asked. His smile was growing colder and colder by the minute causing England to narrow his eyes. Ivan felt England was being far too bold. The country was heavily injured and had lost all of his power. Power that should now belong to him and not some child in too big of a jacket.

England stared to talk when America interjected, stepping before the Englishman. "How is another country yours? Are you Poland or Ukraine or any of the Baltics? I thought you were just Russia."

Ivan's smile faltered as he stared at the teenager. America flashed his own bright smile that caught Ivan off guard. He was smiling just like Ivan did; one that was full of fake friendship and an almost scary threat. It was almost impossible to see it behind his glasses, but Ivan recognized it. He had that same smile, only America's was blinding to distract whomever he stared at whereas Ivan's was ominous and cold.

Ivan countered back. "Ukraine and Belarus are my sisters."

"Still not yours," America said, almost a little too childishly. Ivan's smile widened as he thought of how America was far too young to have any type of power. England was a fool to give it to him.

"Ah, but they are closer to me than you, _da_?"

America shrugged. "As you can see, I'm not asking for a single thing in this entire war even though I'm the one that kicked most butt in it."

England coughed, shooting a glare at the back of America's head. Ivan felt himself resisting a piercing glare as well. "But didn't I help in Japan?"

Laughing, America said, "Yeah right! You came two days _after_ Japan surrendered and did nothing. That doesn't mean a thing."

Ivan pretended to pout, something he hoped would work to make that smile go away, even for a fraction of a second. If it did, he'd have the perfect chance to slide in and win the debate. "As you remember, I was busy fighting in Europe, _da_? I was preparing to help you at all costs, but none of the Allies were willing to help me with reinforcements. If I had just a few more men I could have come sooner."

America's smile didn't fade even in the slightest. He shrugged, sticking his hands in his bomber jacket. "You weren't the only one needing men and Arthur needed my help more than you did. Didn't you say you did your share of the fighting?"

A human name had been used; a sign of intimacy. Ivan's smile vanished. Catching himself at a disadvantage, he hid his mouth behind his scarf, making his glare look like he was still smiling. They truly were ganging up on him and surrounding him with secretive friendships and backdoor agreements. "And didn't you come in only at the end of the war, just _before_ the Axis surrendered?"

At this, England stepped in. "Yes it was convenient timing for America's arrival, but you cannot excuse the fact that his inclusion in the war did help speed up the war and he lost as many humans as you did. Yours just happened to die at a much more rapid pace than America's."

"I was taking on Germany alone," Ivan mumbled.

"Yeah and I took on three, so get over it," America laughed. "Besides, your people were great cannon fodder."

Ivan almost snapped, his eyes growing wide and his hands ached to strangle the boy. He had almost trusted the blonde as a friend from long ago when he had first emerged. He had rooted for him and helped him to shrug off England, even considering signing agreements to trade with the new country. And now he was insulting his children? His children that had frozen waiting in the snow to ambush those Nazis; those invaders. His children that had never gotten enough help from any of the other countries or even his own bosses because of lack of resources, but still ran out into battle to protect Ivan and the land they all shared.

How dare this boy that had closed himself off from pain and had managed to be graced with the least amount of wars in his lifespan come barging into this war that wasn't his and then start insulting his fallen children that he would forever hold in his heart? Damned if the others thought he never truly had one. He certainly had one and it bled for all his Russians.

England pushed America away, catching Russia's cold glare that America was completely oblivious to, and scolded him. "America, do not treat these talks as some mudslinging contest. That's quite enough from you. Russia held his own for years and was always willing to help in China if you recall. Now I want you both to stop this and get back to the matter at hand."

Ivan inhaled, smelling the sweet scent of his sister's fields and hearing their laughter in a bittersweet memory. It was enough to calm his nerves, bringing his smile back to his pale face. "_Da_, I agree. But I won't change my stance. I want my sisters and the Baltics and Poland."

Waving his hand, England sighed. "Let's change subjects. What else is your boss so upset over?"

"I want to punish at least 50,000 to 100,000 German soldiers," Ivan started.

England cut him off, bristling at the notion. "Absolutely not. I forbid such a barbarous act! My boss made it quite clear he wouldn't stand for it and neither will I." He then turned to point an accusing finger at America. "And don't make that ridiculous joke about allowing something like only 49,000."

America laughed, slapping a hand on England's back. "Ah come on! I was just joking!"

England muttered, "What a bunch of fools you all are…" before clearing his throat. "Back to the matter at hand…"

"I believe I'm entitled to giving Germany my own personal form of gratitude for betraying me," Ivan interrupted. He glanced at America when he saw a slight flinch. "_Da_, you know all about betrayal, don't you little America?"

America grumbled, looking down at the floor. Ivan thought he heard him say, "Don't call me little" and had to chuckle. Oh he was still such a child. "Yeah, I know about betrayal, but you don't see me doing that to Japan."

Now was Ivan's chance. "So those two bombs were nothing then?"

Again, England separated the two countries, this time protecting Russia from what looked like the seeds of anger in America. "ENOUGH! Russia now is not the time to be demanding revenge. As you may recall it was those same daft ideas that France had that made Germany fall into hatred again. We cannot allow you to take Germany."

"Then give me his brother." At this, the two blondes seemed slightly surprised. "If you give me Prussia, I will be more than happy to leave Germany alone. I believe Prussia will serve me better anyways."

"Why Prussia? He's not a country." England stared at Russia suspiciously.

At this, Ivan couldn't help but turn his fake smile into a real one. One of his true hatred. "I want to take away the most important thing to him. He took my children. I'll take his beloved brother."

_And then, he will surely become my friend.

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_

_Hoshiko2_'s cents: I want to dedicate this chapter to my big sister for all her help in the history. It's all because of her that all this history was put into this chapter. :3

All right, where to start? There's quite a lot, ne?

This is set shortly before the Yalta Conference of 1945. There are references to the Tehran Conference of 1943 and I wanted to include talks from 1951 when it was announced America would stay in Japan and Russia would get nothing, but that would be too great a leap in the timeline. I know that the Yalta Conference happened before America dropped the nuclear bombs, but I'm taking a little liberty there so Russia could get a little slap in America's face, eh heh heh.

After the Yalta Conference, Russia would walk away with both Prussia and Poland under his belt, so he kinda hit it big. As for the power I'm referring to, that would be the superpower status America (and soon Russia) would come into after the war. Before it England had been considered it, but because of the enormous debt the country fell into and the lack of colonies, England lost all rights to be in charge of anything.

Well I believe that's about it. Again, sorry that I failed the past few weeks for both stories, but I'm sure you can all understand that school takes so much, especially when you're about to graduate. oRZ.

In any case, come back next week and I'll have the 4th chapter all ready for you! Please look forward to it!


	4. Panic

_Submission._

_Defeat._

Ivan watched from his office window as he saw the fall of yet another government regime. The celebration and desecration of everything he had come to know and love had been going on for days now. It drove the Slavic man insane as he waited for the humans to stop; stop shoving his defeat in his face.

He had worked so hard to be strong, to show the world that he was going to be the one to have everyone safely under his arms to protect them from wars. There would be no more pain, no more arguments, no more hate, and no more scars. Ivan's hands itched to scratch his neck, but he kept his composure. He didn't want his own body to give in to the same nonsense going on right outside his building.

That nonsense would be something _America_ and the other Westerners would do, dancing and singing and celebrating Ivan's pain. The fact that he "blinked". Oh, he'd never get over that stupid little phrase. He didn't want to think of it as if he and America and the outside world had played some childish game of a staring contest, but rather that he and America had tried to see which one was more true to their feelings.

In the end, America had won, but Ivan didn't think that America had won with his entire heart. He felt that he had the stronger mask, the better force to keep back all the lies, and the more convincing smile. But America's smile had only faltered once. And no one but Japan had seen it and he refused to talk of it, shuddering and looking away at even the mention of America's true feelings. So what did that make Ivan?

Did he falter more? Was he weaker? Is that how the world saw him?

He must be if he had lost to _America_ and all the rest of Europe was laughing at him for his failure. How could he face those countries again after he had tried so hard to prove his worth?

There was a moment when he had truly felt as if everything was coming together and that some amazing power was falling into his hands. Power. The damn thing that always seemed to elude him.

Ivan slammed his fists against the wall near the window, tears springing to his eyes. How pathetic, he thought. Now he was about to cry? The Golden Horde was right. Ivan would never amount to be anything. He had just "blinked" and was seen as the laughing stock of the world.

Some big brother he was to his sisters and what a wonderful way to make everyone his friend. Even the boy with the brown hair and kind eyes wasn't his friend anymore. His dreams had shattered while so many others' had just come true.

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_Hoshiko2_'s cents: So how about them Putin protestin', eh?  
Second to last chapter is short. Forgive me. This was a bitch of a chapter to write and I really did not enjoy it. Next chapter, though, will be the last and will be a lot better, I promise.

To those who may or may not be reading anything else I write, I'm taking a hiatus until the holidays (i.e. Christmas). Sorry about that, but life is too much of a hassle to do everything at once.


	5. Peace

_Restart._

_Reset._

The day wasn't filled with snow or sunshine or even rainbows promising a brighter tomorrow. No, it was just a normal day with clouds peppering the dull blue sky and the usual hustle and bustle of a city. The only difference was this city, this country, was on the verge of a breakthrough. Well, what reporters and people were saying as such. Ivan would disagree.

The people acted like he had been under some spell or had some disease and had come out of therapy healed of his problems. There was nothing wrong with him. There never had been anything wrong with him. He was always the same little boy as from before. His dream to be friends with people was still there, although he was a little bit more wary of just who he would deem a friend.

If he had to pick, he'd definitely say America wouldn't be one of them. So why was it he was being forced into such a friendship now? Of that's right, because America had spoke of "restarting" their friendship and today, would be that day.

America had to make the situation so much more elaborate than it really was, adding his Hollywood flair and making a red (Red. It _had_ to be red) button and creating a big fanfare about the ordeal when Ivan thought it was perfectly fine to just shake hands and go home. And so it was that Ivan stood on the stage, looking out at the citizens cheering this new friendship.

While Ivan wasn't at the status of a "Special Relationship" like England was to America, there was still that hope that someday maybe there could be. Ivan hated the idea of even having such a cheesy title attached to his friendship with America, but if he could persuade the superpower enough, maybe his dream would come closer to a reality.

There was a sudden cheer as America and his new boss appeared on stage. Ivan's own new boss went to greet the two and turned to Ivan with an expectant smile on his face. Ivan stared at America, watching his cheerful antics as he waved to the people, almost as if he were at some rock concert. He toned it down when he glanced at his boss, a twitch of a smile and an uncertain look in his eyes. Ivan had to smile at this, knowing that half of America was fully on board with his new and hopeful boss, while the other side was concerned this man was lying as much as past presidents.

It was then that America shoved his hand out in front of Ivan. The brilliant smile he always wore to the public that somehow defeated Ivan's own icy smile.

"Hey there, Ivan!" America said all too cheerfully. Ivan refused to wince at the cheeriness the boy always brought with him.

"_Privyet_ America." Ivan didn't shake or acknowledge America's hand. Instead, he kept his focus on the other that was currently in America's pocket. Was there a gun hidden away in that pocket? Ivan wondered.

"Come on. You usually shake. I know you know how to do this." America pulled out his other hand, waving at the crowd. His smile remained the same, but his tone took on a sly under bite to it. "And you wanna make a good impression, right?"

Ivan slapped his hand into America's palm, shaking him tightly and hoping it hurt. He made it quick and effortless.

America pulled away with a laugh and waved towards the platform where the button was sitting atop. "All right, let's do this!"

"I am correct in assuming _you_ were the one who came up with the button, _da_?" Ivan sighed, looking at the button. He could only see the red, internally growling at the stupid thing. He felt as if it were mocking him and his people; the same ones cheering for it to be there.

America laughed, walking up to the button. "Of course I was! This is a big symbol back where I come from. I totally had to use it. We even wrote 'restart' on the button in Russian! Come and see!"

Ivan started. "Wait, YOU wrote Russian?"

"Yeah! Thought I'd give it a try. I know how to speak it, but my writing's a little rusty." America laughed nervously.

Ivan smiled slightly. "You speak Russian? Since when? Did you pick up Russian for Dummies somewhere?"

"Wow, Ivan." America rolled his eyes, his smile losing a touch of his shine. "For claiming you're smarter than me you don't realize we've been speaking Russian the entire time? O did it through-out all of the Cold War too."

Ivan flushed, embarrassed his intelligence was being challenged and that he had, in fact, failed to notice their change in language. "Your accent is deplorable. You might as well just speak English."

America shrugged off the insult. "I still speak it, so get over it. You don't see me making fun of your accent when you speak English."

"That's because you like my accent when I speak English." Ivan smirked at America, unable to let that opportunity pass. He had heard of such a rumor from France when America had gotten a little too tipsy at one of his Christmas parties a few years back. Seeing the flush on America's face was proof enough that France hadn't been lying.

America looked back at the red button, reminding Ivan that it was still there. He had been told to push the button with America, the ultimate symbol of their friendship and unity. With a low groan, Ivan walked up to look at the stupid device.

And then he began to laugh. _Really_ laugh.

America was confused, but laughed along with the Russian. Ivan kept looking at the button and laughing harder. Here America was, in all of his fame and power and glory, and he couldn't even write "Reset" correctly.

"America," Ivan managed between his laughs. He pointed at the button. "You wrote 'Overcharge'!"

America's eyes widened as he instantly stopped laughing. He looked, adjusting his glasses, and blushing all the more. He had been called out and now everyone would see it. Ivan laughed even harder at America's childish reaction as he tried to cover it up. It was just as bad as when one of America's bosses had spoken German wrong all those years ago.

Ivan came forward, his hand on the button. America stopped to look at him. It was at that moment that Ivan let it all go; all of his frustration and hope to completely destroy America's shining moment. How he wanted to botch America's subtle propaganda at getting Ivan's citizens to love him and his new boss, to respect them and see them as amazing beacons of hope. How he wanted to tell the world how much of an idiot he thought the blonde was.

And yet, it was there. That sincere touch of kindness. America wasn't upset he had been called out. No, he was upset that he had messed up writing Russian and tried to make the situation as perfect as possible. For the both of them. He really was trying and that's all Ivan could ask of him. After all, isn't that all he had wanted from himself?

"Just push the button with me, Alfred," Ivan mumbled.

America's smile returned in full bloom, relief evident in his eyes. "You got it!"

Ivan reset.

* * *

_Hoshiko2_'s cents: Sorry for updating a day late! Studying took up my entire day (and yet it was a holiday here in America. What?)

Anyways, this is my favorite chapter (and yet it's the end) as it's just so silly. Yes, this really did happen. March 2009. America's boss is Obama and Ivan's is Medyedev. And to those who may not know, the older boss and his botching of the language comes from JFK's speech of "I am a Germaner" back around the Berlin Wall fun times. Good stuff. The best humor comes from history.

Anyways, thanks for reading this series! Sorry it was so long to update. orz  
To anyone that is interested, I will be writing another short story series like this for England and China soon. I think next up will be China, but his will not be ready until probably after Thanksgiving in America. England's will be after the New Year. And, as always, if you like what you see, feel free to read my main series!

спасибо!


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